“Not you. Whoever packaged deadly poison as tea and slipped it into my gift basket did that. I’m pretty sure I’m going to receive more attention from law enforcement now.”
“I’m not willing to leave your safety to them. They can’t offer round-the-clock protection. We can, and we won’t accept a dime. Not from you.”
Sucking in a quivering breath, Cady wound her fingers together. “I won’t argue about that offer anymore. I’m grateful.”
“Good.” West seemed to relax into his pillow.
“Do you know the creepiest thing for me about this situation?” She gazed into his sober eyes. “I’ve deduced that whoever attacked me this morning got tired of waiting—like a patient spider in a web—for me to drink that cowbane concoction and die, so they took direct action and tried to smother me.”
West’s hand wrapped around hers, spreading warmth up her arm. “We’re dealing with evil here. But God promises never to leave or forsake us. We need to trust Him for guidance and protection.”
Cady bit back the hot retort that sprang to her lips. Where was that guidance and protection when her husband walked into an ambush during some top-secret operation at an undisclosed location in the Middle East?
Instead, she forced a tight-lipped smile at West. “With all my heart, I trust you and your guys to keep me and Olivia safe.”
* * *
“You need to trust us with Mrs. Long’s safety, Mr. Foster,” Detective Rooney said to West. He’d been the one on scene at Cady’s home.
Rooney had strolled into West’s hospital room only an hour or so after Darius and then Brennan had been in to see him. The pair had been more than willing to accompany Cady and Olivia home and commit to staying with them indefinitely. So far, the detective had taken West’s statement and had him sign a release to law enforcement of his medical records pertaining to this incident. Now, the investigator was trying to get him to back off on watchdog duty, like West and his men’s presence was somehow going to mess with the police investigation.
West scowled at the detective. “Are you prepared to assign officers to guard her and her premises 24/7?”
“There was no sign of forced entry at the house.” The detective scowled back. “Is Mrs. Long prone to vivid nightmares? She could have been thrashing around and banged the back of her skull against that massive headboard on her bed.”
“Is that what you people are speculating now? That Cady dreamed of being attacked this morning?”
Did the detective know something that he wasn’t willing to share?
Cold iron stiffened West’s spine. “If Cady’s imagining things, how do you explain the poison in the tea that was certainly meant for her?”
“The poison was present in Mrs. Long’s tea container, which implies danger to her, but you say she never drank from her cup, even though it sat in front of her for many minutes.”
“Understandable. She’d just been attacked in her home, and we were talking over serious matters. She was too distracted and agitated to care about drinking tea.”
“Yet you weren’t?”
“I told you how things happened. Stop trying to make something sinister out of it. Are you saying she put the poisoned tea in her own cupboard? That she knowingly let me drink it? To what end? I’ve known this woman since her husband was assigned to my Army Ranger squad almost four years ago. She may be hurting right now. Who wouldn’t be? But she’s as solid as they come, a genuinely gentle and caring person.”
The detective smirked. “I hope you’re right, Mr. Foster, but you may not know Cady Long as well as you think.”
“What is that remark supposed to mean?”
“Just a word of caution that I probably shouldn’t be offering.”
“You think she’s behind an attempt on my life?” West sat bolt upright in bed. The EEG lead wires attached to his scalp yanked painfully at tufts of hair. He ignored the minor irritation and the light-headed swish in his brain. “You’re out of line, Rooney.” He jabbed a finger in the detective’s direction. “I don’t know how you’ve come up with such a ridiculous theory.”
The man shrugged. “Take it easy, Mr. Foster. We’ll get to the bottom of what’s going on. In the meantime, you and your guys need to stay clear of our investigation. You don’t need an obstruction charge on your record before you’ve even gotten your bodyguard business off the ground.”
West ground his teeth. If steam could shoot out his ears, the room would be fogged. The detective had done some fast homework on him, as well as Cady.
“Is that some kind of threat, Detective Rooney?”
“Not at all.” The man offered a bland smile beneath cold eyes.
West snorted. “My team and I can protect Cady and Olivia. You can’t—or won’t. You and your people should concentrate on catching the monster who’s trying to kill her. We’ll do our job and you do yours.” He clamped his mouth shut, not about to let this law enforcement officer know that he and his partners would be conducting their own investigation on the down-low.
“You can count on us doing our job, Mr. Foster.” Tight-lipped, the detective jerked a nod and stalked out of the room.
West got busy yanking the wires off his head and the IV out of his arm. Naturally, those actions sounded alarms and brought medical personnel rushing in, but he bulldozed their objections to his departure. At last, the doc arrived just as West was buttoning his shirt.
Dr. Horton, looking more tired than ever, shook his head and wagged a small piece of paper at him. “This is a prescription for a generic form of diazepam. Fill it and keep the medication with you at all times.” He swiftly outlined specific directions for using the drug. “But only administer it if a seizure or signs of one occur. Instruct your friends on its use, because you might not be able to perform the administration. Then get back to the hospital immediately. Understood?”
“Understood.” West took the prescription paper. “Here’s hoping I won’t need this stuff, but I can’t be sidelined right now.”
“All right, but keep in mind that your best hedge against a seizure is not the drug but keeping yourself hydrated as your body continues to purge itself of toxins.” Dr. Horton frowned. “I gather from reading between the lines of the police inquiries that this was an attempted murder, but you may or may not have been the intended victim?”
“You got that right. Let me ask you, Doc, what would have happened had it been someone a little over five feet tall and maybe 105 pounds who ingested that poison and not a big goof like me?”
The doctor’s frown deepened. “The truth? Survival would have been extremely doubtful. Water hemlock—what your friend calls cowbane—is one of the most toxic plants in the northern hemisphere. You pulled through purely because of your size and the fact that you received swift and accurate medical attention.”
“Thanks for your frankness. That’s pretty much what I thought.”
An ice block formed in the pit of West’s stomach. Only a few sips of tea would have rendered Olivia an orphan. What would have become of Baby-bug then? If she lost her mother, who would take her in and raise her? Through close comradeship with Griffon, he knew that Griff had come out of the foster care system and had no known relatives...and Cady had admitted she had no siblings, but she’d been stingy with further details about her background. Over time, West had gleaned hints that her parents were still alive, but out of the picture for some unspecified but strong reason. Since Griff had mentioned once that his own foster care situation had been a walk in the park compared to the dysfunction of Cady’s upbringing, those particular grandparents didn’t sound like a promising option for custody of Olivia.
West shook himself mentally. He couldn’t allow himself to pursue any what-if scenarios. Cady’s life had been spared—twice. The only conceivable future was one in which Cady and Olivia survived, and even thrived. That’s where he and his Triple Threat team came in. Brennan and D
arius and he were forming their personal protection service to help keep people safe. It was their honor to take Cady and Olivia on as their first clients. Failure to protect them was not an option!
Within the hour, West had taken a taxi to his apartment where he put on socks and shoes and retrieved his wallet. Then he went to a drug store. Now, prescription filled and bottled water in hand, he climbed out of another taxi in front of Cady’s house. He stepped up on her porch and knocked on the front door of dark hardwood and vintage leaded-glass. This home she’d inherited was a historical prize, being one of the few remaining residential dwellings in the Philadelphia area designed by the famous architect Frank Heyling Furness in the late 1800s. She’d been offered big money to sell it. However, not only did the terms of the will prohibit her from selling the property, but Cady admitted she had always loved this redbrick Gothic Revival home, as it featured fondly in her memories from visits here during her young childhood.
Darius opened the door, shaking his head. “I figured you’d show up sooner rather than later. We’ve got everything under control here, Sarge. You should have taken a little more R and R.”
“You know I couldn’t do that.”
“I know.” Darius grinned.
West followed his business partner and former army buddy into Cady’s living room. The furnishings in soft browns and greens were thoroughly homey, but also as vintage as the rest of the place. Cady had inherited everything, even the old-fashioned crocheted doilies under the lamps perched on the small tables flanking the long sofa and the easy chair near the front window. The terms of the strange will required her to keep the decor as is for the first year of ownership; then and only then would she be free to update one room per year, within the restraints specified by the historical society. West figured she might not make many changes, unless it was modernizing the old-school kitchen. Cady liked antiques. She currently occupied a genuine Renaissance Revival armchair designed by famous cabinetmaker Daniel Pabst, a detail West knew only because Cady had told him when he and the guys helped her move in.
Her head was bent over a large book in which she was writing. At his entrance, she lifted her pen and frowned up at him. “West, what are you doing—”
“No scolding,” he interrupted her. “My strength is returning in leaps and bounds. This is where I need to be. What are you writing?”
She held up the book. The cover featured a cute cradle in the center with a variety of infant toys around it. “Filling in Olivia’s baby book. She’s developmentally on track with holding her head up, cooing and turning toward sounds. And Brennan is convinced that this afternoon he stimulated the first real, non-gas-related smile out of her. I’m inclined to agree.” She sent a grin in the Kentuckian’s direction, and the man’s chest noticeably expanded.
West laughed. “Careful there, Bren. You’ll pop buttons. Where is Baby-bug, by the way?”
“Napping,” the three responded in harmony.
“We need to talk strategy.” West took a seat at one end of the high-backed sofa. “First off, one of us will be with you at all times, no matter where you go.”
Cady pursed her lips. “Having a perpetual shadow is going to feel totally weird. What about nighttime?”
“Whoever is on duty will bunk here in the living room, but no sleeping allowed. This creeper has apparently discovered how to get into the house regardless of locks and bolts. We need to be alert and waiting. Further, we need to search this house from top to bottom for any means of access that haven’t been considered.”
“Darius and I already did that,” Brennan said.
“Then we’re going to do it again. It’s a priority to figure out how the intruder got inside and put a stop to any future occurrences. But we’ve got another pressing problem.”
He didn’t see any way around leveling with everyone about what the police were thinking. Forewarned was forearmed, after all. Hating every word that spilled from his mouth, he told Cady and his crew about Detective Rooney’s insinuation that Cady had deliberately not drunk the tea because she knew it was poisoned, as well as the detective using a nightmare to explain Cady’s attack in the wee hours of this morning.
“The man has lost it!” Darius bellowed.
“You got that right.” Brennan snorted like an angry bull.
West turned toward Cady to find that she’d gone so pale he reflexively put out an arm to catch her if she fainted. She didn’t, but if she looked any more crushed, she’d be a speck on the floor.
“Why would the police suspect me of imagining a violent attack on myself and trying to kill a man I value and trust?” The words quavered from her lips like leaves fluttering in the wind.
“They don’t know you like we do. Besides, they’re paid to be suspicious. I have no doubt the detective is soon going to look mighty foolish for suspecting you of anything more underhanded than flipping those awesome chocolate chip pancakes of yours.”
She sent him a weak smile, but her eyes shone with moisture. “I can’t believe this nightmare is really happening! I thought I’d left this sort of thing far behind me.”
“What are you talking about?” West drew his brows together.
She shook her head and clamped her lips closed.
Should he press her for an answer? Now, when she seemed so fragile, might not be the time. But maybe he didn’t know her as well as he’d thought.
THREE
Cady’s heart seized in her chest. How should she answer West’s question? How much could she divulge about her family past without losing the respect of these men she admired or, worse, inviting them to suspect her as a bad apple that hadn’t fallen far from the tree, the way the police seemed to be doing? Her tragic family history featured a neglectful alcoholic father who had disowned her, as well as a mother with her mind so destroyed by drugs that she barely knew her remaining daughter’s name. Both parents were incarcerated for widely different but truly awful reasons. Would her past ever simply stay in the past?
Even Griff had never known the full story, and thankfully, he’d never pressed her for more than she wanted to share. One of the things she’d loved most about him was the way he loved her in the here and now, just the way she was, without analyzing or judging. She’d done her best to return the favor where his own painful past was concerned.
West’s steady gaze sifted through her. Did his eyes narrow ever so slightly? Cady resisted the impulse to squirm.
“Let’s get to our house search, then,” he said at last, turning his dark brown eyes toward his business partners. “This is a big place and may have surprises for us.”
“Yes,” Cady confirmed. What a relief that he seemed willing to forego his line of questioning about her past. “Victorians, especially Gothics, are known for their nooks and crannies, possibly even hidden entrances or exits.”
West sent her a sharp look. “How about secret passages?”
“Possible.”
“Do you have a copy of the architectural plans for the house?”
Cady shrugged. “Not to my knowledge. But who knows what’s stored up in that attic? It would take days...maybe even weeks to go through everything up there.”
West frowned. “I don’t think we can waste that much time digging around. Would the local municipality or the historical society have a copy?”
“It’s possible. Let me call and ask.” She laid the baby book on a side table and picked up her phone lying next to it.
“While you’re chasing down leads on the plans,” West said, “the guys and I can start canvassing the property.”
“No way, Sarge.” Brennan sliced the air with his hand. “Your color still isn’t right, so you need to sit there and suck down some H2O while we do the legwork.”
“And if we go anywhere, I’m going to drive.” Cady shot him a stern look.
West raised his hands. “I yield to wisdom.”
“Wise man,” Cady said, and everyone laughed.
West turned eagle eyes on his buddies, who grinned and offered mock salutes as they exited the living room. Cady motioned for him to keep drinking from his water bottle as she began to look up the needed phone numbers. By the time she was speaking to someone at the township office, West’s head had relaxed against the high back of the sofa and his eyelids were drooping. Cady’s stomach clenched. She’d come so close to losing him. He shouldn’t be up and about, but she had no clue how to make the endearingly stubborn man back off on taking care of her when he should be taking care of himself.
A short time later, Cady stepped over to the sleeping soldier and studied the clean lines of his face, vulnerable in a rare moment of repose. Not classically handsome but striking in its strength, with a bold brow and a generous nose that had clearly been broken more than once. The firm jawline and the square mouth declared trust me, and she did. With all her heart.
She touched one broad shoulder and he jerked upright with a gasp. A small cry left her lips, and his wide gaze riveted on her. The guy looked ready to leap off the sofa and pounce on any threat. Sergeant Westley Foster, reporting for duty. A small grin unfurled on her lips.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She sobered. “You must need the rest. Are you sure you want to charge around the countryside in search of house blueprints?”
“I’m good. Did you get a lead on the plans?”
“A slender one. The municipal office was a bust. No record of ever having the blueprints. But the person at the historical society said that, while they don’t have them either, I should check with the lawyer who handled the estate, so I called Mr. Platte and bingo! Well...” her enthusiasm faltered “...at least a partial bingo. He happens to have an incomplete set of drawings, not actual blueprints, in my great-aunt’s file.”
“When does his office close?”
“‘Promptly at 5:00 p.m.,’” she said in a stuffy voice. “That’s pretty much a quote from the guy and in just that tone.” She let out a small laugh. “His office is in the neighboring suburb of Wyncote near Robinson Park. I only met him once to receive the house keys and sign the compliance papers for the inheritance. He’s nearly as old as my great-aunt was and he runs a one-lawyer operation with a paralegal and a secretary. He struck me as a stickler for order and detail. I have no doubt he’ll lock the doors exactly when he says he will.”
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